


The Christmas Dragon

by eragon19



Series: Prompt Fills [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Presents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28636200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eragon19/pseuds/eragon19
Summary: Sherlock needs to find the perfect gift for John. Luckily a toy in a shop window gives him an idea.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Prompt Fills [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/555439
Comments: 18
Kudos: 87





	The Christmas Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> For Sarah.

The streets of London bustled around Sherlock as he walked down the pavement with John at his side. The Christmas decorations that once seemed gaudy and overdone now seemed to reflect his jubilation. Another challenging case was solved, Lestrade and, more importantly, John had been impressed by him. He glanced at the man in question next to him and smiled. It had been a truly delightful day. So much so that Sherlock was actually looking forward to eating dinner when they got home.

The pavement was so crowded with Christmas shoppers that he and John were forced into a slow walk. John didn’t seem to mind though as he gazed into the store windows they passed. John was a notorious window shopper. Sherlock didn’t understand it…why didn’t he just go into the stores.

All of that was irrelevant know though; the case was solved and Sherlock wanted something to eat. Preferable something with lots of sauce. He was debating between Tika Masla or Roghan Josh when he noticed John wasn’t next to him anymore.

Turning around, Sherlock saw John a few paces behind, looking into a shop window with a faraway look on his face. In a swirl of his coat, that certainly wasn’t on purpose, Sherlock strode back to John’s side to see what had put such an odd mix of melancholy and fondness on his face. He glanced between the window and John, then back again. John seemed to be staring at a huge, plush, dragon stuffy. It was one of those with a long tail and floppy wings meant to be draped over a bed head. Sherlock had had one himself when he was younger. In fact, he was willing to bet money it was still curled around his bedhead in his childhood home. His father was sentimental in that way.

“I had one of those when I was younger,” John said with a smile, “It was my favourite for a while.”

His brow furrowed then and Sherlock held his breath. He could tell from John’s posture that his father was about to be mentioned. John’s shoulders always went stiff and his face hardened around the eyes whenever the man came up.

“When I was fourteen, my dad threw him out. Said it should be girls in my bed instead,” John let out a breath, “Said only faggots had stuffed toys anyway.”

Sherlock supressed an eye roll. John didn’t talk much about his father, but he’d said enough over time for Sherlock to know the man had been an odious prick.

“It was just a stuffed dragon, but it bothered me so much,” John went on with a hard little laugh. “I was planning to hide the thing in my cupboard, silly I know, it was just a toy! But dad got there first and threw it out. I was so angry.” John’s laugh was self-deprecating this time.

Sherlock felt no such attachment to his own dragon any more, but he knew that John didn’t have many toys growing up. Thus, the attachments to the ones he did have would be strong. It was different to Sherlock’s own upbringing, with a playroom full of toys and people willing to play with him.

“It clearly meant something to you. So no, it’s not silly.”

John gave him a grateful smile.

“I had my own too, you know. A dragon like that. Different colours, but the same.” Sherlock left out the fact he still had it. He didn’t want to rub his own indulged childhood in John’s face.

“What colours?” John asked as the restaurant came into view.

“Red and yellow, and yours?”

John grinned at him, “The same! Did yours have little black spots on the tail?”

Sherlock smiled back, he couldn’t help it. “Yeah. I named him spots. Mycroft was so disappointed at the lack of creativity.”

John laughed and Sherlock joined in with giggles of his own as they entered the restaurant.

***

Christmas crawled closer and the work dried up. It always did around Christmas, apparently even criminals took time off to put up their trees and drown in eggnog. As with every Christmas, the tree was put up, tinsel hung and Christmas lights untangled. Usually Sherlock would pretend to have an important experiment to get out doing the work, but this year something was different. He actually had _fun_ decorating, not that he would ever admit it. He tried to cover by grumbling and groaning as usual, but something about the way John looked at him made Sherlock think his ruse wasn’t entirely successful.

Soon, Mrs Hudson and John were heading out on shopping trips and sneaking into the flat with bags they promptly hid. Sherlock had gotten most of his shopping done already; a new teapot for Mrs Hudson, a travel mug for Greg and his and her watches for his parents. For Mycroft he’d bought a voucher for a high end dessert place. Now, all that was left was a gift for John.

The most important one to him for reasons he wasn’t going to analyse.

The problem was Sherlock didn’t know what to get John. Last year he’d gotten John a dark blue jumper that went well with the colour of John’s eyes. John had loved it and wore it the very next time they went out.

This year a jumper didn’t feel like the right choice…nothing did. Not shoes, books, clothes. It would make John uncomfortable if he spent too much money, so jewellery was out. Still, the gift needed to be _special_. Again…Sherlock wasn’t going to look too deeply into why that was.

Sighing, Sherlock flopped back onto the couch and tried to think of something unusual that John would appreciate. He rolled onto his side and stared at the telly. Some colourful children’s show was on, with oddly animated children riding on a cheerful dragon’s back. The dragon gave Sherlock a pause, then he had an idea; a brilliant, but risky idea.

Heaving himself off the couch, Sherlock scooped his phone off the coffee table and headed into his bedroom. A few taps later and the phone was against his ear as he waited for his mother to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hello mummy.”

“Sherlock! Hello dear, how are you?”

“I’m fine mummy, and you?”

“I’m as well as can be. Your father’s building new draws for the pantry and I’ve been reviewing Ph.D. proposals. What do you need?”

Sherlock smiled. His mother was never one for small talk. Something Sherlock both appreciated and inherited from her.

“Do you still have the stuffed dragon that used to be on my headboard?”

“Bertram? Yes, he’s still guarding your room,” she said with a little laugh. “Why?”

“I need it. Do you think you could have it sent to me?”

There was a pause. “Now Sherlock, I’m not a sentimental person but I’d rather if you didn’t experiment on him. He was your favourite when you were small. I remember when-

“It’s not for me,” Sherlock interrupted, not wanting to wander down memory lane. “It’s- it’s for John.”

There was another pause. If it were anyone else but his mother, Sherlock would have had a barbed quip at the ready to defend himself.

“For John?”

“Yes, I- um, I wanted to give it to John for Christmas,” Sherlock said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was sure his face was pink and was glad he hadn’t decided on a video call. His mother would never make fun of him, but she wasn’t above teasing.

“Why would John want your old stuffy?” his mother asked. Apart from no interest in small talk, he’d also gotten his bluntness from her as well.

“He had one like it when he was small, and it would mean a lot to him to have another I think.”

“I see,” his mother said, sounding smug.

“It’s not like that mummy,” Sherlock said, feeling his face flame. “It’s-

“No no, don’t mind me. It’s perfectly natural to give your favourite childhood toy to your flatmate. Perfectly platonic.”

“Mummy!”

“I’ll send it first class mail so it’ll arrive in time for Christmas.” Her tone turned teasing, “Shall I wash it, or do you want John to know what your bedroom smells like?”

“Mummy!”

“Look out for the postman!”

With one last giggle, she hung up.

Sherlock stared at the phone, wondering if his cheeks would be permanently red. He should have just gone home and sunk the toy out of his room himself.

Sighing, Sherlock set his phone on the night stand and stared at the wall. He knew perfectly well why he was willingly subjecting himself to his mother’s teasing. The feelings he had for John had been deepening and deepening since he’d jumped off that roof. They had been there before of course; one didn’t jump of a roof for just a friend. But Sherlock had only admitted to what it was when his toes were curled over the roof’s edge, Moriarty’s body cooling behind him.

He was in love with John, and since he couldn’t say it sentiment would have to do for now.

Just then the door downstairs slammed and Sherlock got to his feet and headed to the living room. He planned to ask John to make dinner and then work on an experiment for the rest of the afternoon.

***

Christmas morning dawned cold and clear. Sherlock was up early, teeth brushed and face washed, but still in his pajamas. It felt wrong to get dressed on Christmas. He heard the clink of teacups and happily went into the kitchen. Just as he hoped, a sleep rumpled John was at the counter waiting for the kettle to boil. John turned to him and smiled brightly. That, coupled with way his hair was sticking up, made Sherlock’s heart do something funny in his chest.

“Morning Sherlock. Happy Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, John,” Sherlock said, grinning.

“Do you want to wait for the tea? Or?” John nodded towards the tree where a small pile of presents sat waiting for them.

Sherlock grinned and flicked off the kettle.

“I knew you’d choose that. Let’s go!” John said, smiling in return.

Together they sat on the floor by the tree and reached for a present each.

“You first,” Sherlock said.

John opened the wrapping eagerly. Although he never said it, Sherlock knew John loved getting presents.

It was a cream jumper from Mrs Hudson. John commented on the softness and then motioned for Sherlock to open his own.

“Oh good, that’s mine you’ve got there,” John said, “I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” Sherlock said, as he ripped the paper off.

The box inside was flat and made of smooth cream cardboard. More excited than he was willing to admit, Sherlock pulled the top off. Inside was a pair of beautiful leather gloves.

Grinning wide, Sherlock pulled them out of the box and tired them on.

“I thought I red stitching would match the red on the button holes of your coat,” John said, looking a little shy, “Do they fit?”

“They fit perfectly!” Sherlock said, wiggling his fingers at John, “And they’ll match wonderfully. Thank you, John!”

The gift was already Sherlock’s favourite and it was only his first.

So what if he were biased.

“Open mine next,” Sherlock said, deciding to throw caution to the wind.

John reached for the box, eyebrows lifted at the size and started on the paper. “I hope you didn’t spend too much.”

“I didn’t spend a dime.”

John shot him a playfully suspicious look and tossed the last of the paper aside. As he began opening the lid of the box, Sherlock suddenly felt nervous. What if John thought his gift was stupid? Or lazy?

Swallowing, Sherlock carefully took his gloves off and busied himself with putting them back in the box so he wouldn’t have to look at John.

He heard the lid come off and John’s little noise of surprise at the red and yellow fabric inside. There was a rustle as John pulled the dragon out, and Sherlock fought the urge to twist his glove box in his hands.

“Is this the dragon we saw in the shop?”

“Er, no,” Sherlock said, eyes still down. “It was mine when I was little. Remember I told you about it? I still had it and thought you would appreciate it since yours was,” Sherlock searched for the nicest word to use, “taken from you.”

Silence fell.

“You gave me your childhood stuffy?”

Sherlock nodded. Oh God, John hated it, he thought it was stupid.

Sherlock jumped when warm fingers curled under his chin and tipped his face up, bringing him face to face with John.

John looked anything but annoyed. In fact, he looked happy and soft and in lo-

Sherlock cut that train of thought off before it could torture him further.

“Sherlock, I love it,” John swallowed, his fingers still on Sherlock’s face. “Thank you.”

It was the soft sincerity of the thank you that did it. Sherlock leaned forward, only a little John was so close, and kissed John softly on the lips.

John gasped quietly, but before Sherlock could pull away and apologize, John was kissing him back. Soft and firm and perfect. The dragon got squashed between them as Sherlock pulled John closer, wrapping his arms tight around John’s waist and tilting his head.

If asked, he wouldn’t have been able to tell how long they kissed for. All he knew was that his chest felt so warm he thought he’d burst into flames and he never knew how delightfully solid John’s body was.

When they parted John’s eyes were bright and his smiled was warm.

“I’ve wanted to do that for ages,” he said, gently playing with the curls at the base of Sherlock’s skull.

There were many stupidly sappy things Sherlock could have said in that moment, instead he said, “Me too.”

John chuckled and kissed again.

It was perfect. So of course Sherlock had to ruin it.

“I love you,” Sherlock said, holding John close.

John stared at him and the reality of what he just said hit Sherlock like a freight train.

“Ignore that!” Sherlock barked, voice harsher than he meant it. “Pretend I never said it.”

John blinked at him.

“I know it’s too soon, so let’s just keep kissing yes?” Sherlock said desperately.

He made to pull John to him, but John resisted.

Oh no.

“I love you, too.”

Now it was Sherlock’s turn to blink at John. “What?”

“I love you too, Sherlock. Relax, it’s okay.”

“Oh, that’s…good then.”

John burst into laughter and Sherlock felt himself go red.

God gag him, he was an idiot.

Deciding John needed to be distracted, he John to him and kissed him until the man went pliant in his arms.

Plan successful.

When they parted, John sat back smiling wide. The dragon rolled between them, squished from where it had been pressed between their bodies. John picked it up and carefully smoothened the wings into place.

“Thank you for this Sherlock. It means a lot.”

“Your welcome, John.”

“Shall we open the rest?” John asked, “Mycroft’s look suspiciously like a fruit cake.”

“He would send us something that odious. Wouldn’t he?”

John laughed and reached for a gift.

Together they continued opening presents, but Sherlock felt entirely different. John loved him. John loved _him_.

John settled down with another present, leaning against Sherlock’s side and smiling when Sherlock wrapped an arm around his shoulders. The world hadn’t stopped turning, Baker Street hadn’t exploded. John loved him everything was both the same and beautifully different.

And it was absolutely perfect.


End file.
